Chapter Two #2
After another disdainful snort, she said, “I’ve been on the run with my dad for five years. Of course I know how to disable a phone. But I have a quicker solution.” She buzzed down the passenger door window and pitched her cell phone out. “How’s that?”
“Effective.”
“Like Dad, I only use cheapo burner phones. And that one was almost out of minutes. Anything else?”
“Do you wear a tracker tag, a smart ring or a watch that connects you to the internet?”
She wiggled her arms and fingers in the air. “I’m not hooked up to anything. And I don’t have an implanted chip so WITSEC can monitor my movements.”
He wondered if an implanted chip had been suggested to her. WITSEC wasn’t usually so restrictive with the people they protected. The program was voluntary, after all. If Mollie or her dad wanted out, all they had to do was ask. “How much self-defense training have you had?”
“I know how to load, aim and fire. My dad is kind of a gun nut, and he taught me about weapons when I was a kid. I go to the shooting range twice a month. I wouldn’t call myself an expert, but I do okay.”
“Do you own a gun?”
She nodded, adding that both she and her father kept their handguns in a safe.
Then she rattled off a list of other weapons, including stun guns, Tasers, Mace and pepper spray.
“I have my own recipe for pepper spray using cayenne and habanero. I never learned to bake cookies with my aunt Irma, but Dad taught me how to mix up a solution that’ll burn your face off. ”
“Are you carrying pepper spray with you right now?”
She dug into the pocket of her shorts, grabbed the small canister and held it up. “Ta-da!”
Considering himself lucky that she hadn’t blasted him when they first met, Spence turned onto the airport road, then navigated through office buildings, small terminals and the air traffic control tower to a monitored parking lot outside the hangar used by the private jet service based in Salem.
Though he hadn’t expected to run into trouble in Denver, he always took precautions, especially when he was acting as a bodyguard.
“I’ll exit the car first, then come around and escort you into the lounge area inside the hangar. ”
“You think I’m in danger? Because of the guys with guns?”
“A reasonable assumption,” he said.
“Maybe, but I’ve never seen those guys before. It’s not like they’ve been stalking me, and I’m good at watching for those things. Dad taught me, and I’ve taken classes on how to protect myself. I’m hyper-alert…usually. Well-prepared.”
Her cautious bravado endeared her to him. Spence hoped she wasn’t exaggerating too much. “Is this the first time you’ve been threatened?”
“First time in Denver. Four years ago in Texas, we got in the middle of an upsurge in cartel violence when two gangs went after each other.”
He sensed there was more to the story. “What happened to you and your father?”
“We were followed. Somebody broke into our house, slashed our tires. But we weren’t confronted by armed men. Actually, the gangs did more harm to each other than to us.”
In his opinion, WITSEC made a mistake when they placed a whistleblower like Mollie’s father in Texas where drug cartels were more active. “Where did you go after that?”
“Salt Lake City. Everything was okay until three years ago when I got a couple of weird phone calls.”
She shook herself as if to shed the unpleasant memories, but he wasn’t ready to drop the subject. “Tell me about the calls.”
“No big deal.”
“Tell me anyway.”
She huffed a sigh. “Okay, these calls were stalker-like. Mentioning the clothes I was wearing and how my dyed auburn hair looked fake. The caller knew where I stopped for coffee on my way to work, even though I changed coffee shops frequently, which was one of Dad’s lessons about not following a set routine. ”
“Were you ever approached?”
“I received an anonymous present. A pair of designer shoes in my favorite shade of blue along with a matching purse.”
To Spence, her stalker sounded more like a wannabe lover than a psycho drug dealer seeking revenge.
She continued, “When I told Dad about the stalker, he insisted on reporting to the marshals, and we got moved to Denver. It’s been quiet here, so quiet that Dad and I have considered leaving WITSEC.”
“We’ll talk more later.” He needed more information to flesh out his bare-bones profile of Mollie and prepare her comprehensive security in Oregon. First, they needed to hop on the plane and get going.
Before he exited the SUV, Spence drew his weapon.
Holding the Beretta at his side, he stepped out of the car and scanned the airfield.
A twin-engine turboprop taxied toward one of the three runways.
Motorized carts filled with luggage zipped between the hangars.
A few pilots and passengers meandered around. Nothing appeared unusual or dangerous.
He opened the passenger side door for her. Still keeping watch, he escorted her to an enclosed, air-conditioned lounge inside the hangar, complete with refrigerator and vending machines. Mollie frowned at the snacks on display. “Any chance of getting real food?”
“There’s a menu on the coffee table.” He guided her through an arrangement of simple leatherette chairs and sofas to a reception area with computers, printers, notebooks and phones.
Behind the desk, a compact woman with long, curly, black hair spun around on her swivel chair and gave them a bright, professional smile.
Spence introduced her. “This is Reba Richter, paragon of efficiency. Tell her your food order for the restaurant, and she’ll put it on my tab.”
“I definitely want a cheeseburger and fries,” Mollie said. “Also, I’d like to get a fresh shirt and clean socks. If it’s possible, a shower.”
“I’ll fix you right up.” Reba turned to Spence and held out her hand for his key fob. “Let me take care of your rental car. I expect you want to see your pilot. He should be here any minute. I contacted him when you walked in.”
Her competence always impressed him. “If you ever move to Oregon, I have a job waiting for your proficient touch.”
“Best offer I’ve had all day.” She took Mollie by the arm and led her toward a door behind her desk. “There’s a locker room back here. You can take a shower and freshen up while your food is being prepared.”
The pilot and copilot for Salem Beacon Charter entered the lounge and took Spence to a cubicle workstation down a short hallway, where they had a brief discussion of the return trip to Salem Airport.
Since they were returning to his home base, Spence had no special requests for the flight crew.
The pilot promised they’d take off as soon as he did a safety check and filed a flight plan.
When they left, Spence leaned back in the desk chair and propped his feet on the desktop.
Down to business, he ran through a series of calls, checking in with his office secretary, then contacting the supervisor on his security staff to make sure everything was ready for Mollie’s arrival.
The safe house had been supplied with linens and food.
Vehicles rented. Bodyguards assigned. His car was waiting at the airport.
The next call might be problematic. He didn’t intend to stick around while the Denver cops investigated, but the attack needed to be reported. Law enforcement should be informed. Spence had the phone number Mollie’s father had given him to contact US Marshal Tim Youngblood, their contact in Denver.
Spence lowered his feet from the desktop and stared at his phone screen.
If he made this call, Marshal Youngblood would probably demand to see Mollie and would, most likely, take her back into protective custody while they processed paperwork.
In which case, this frantic trip to Denver would have been in vain.
Mollie would disappear into the system. Finding her again would be complicated as hell.
He stood and shoved his phone into his pocket. He’d contact Youngblood after they were airborne, flying west into the golden sunset.